Untitled
by CaffeineChic
Summary: JI
1. Default Chapter

I'm all about posting things the minute I finish them because otherwise I never would. This is my first J/I fic, but I'm hoping it won't be my last. This clawed its way out of my head while in AI earlier, so while I now have a scrap of story that I'm pretty happy with, I don't have any grasp of propositional logic. Fair trade me hopes.  
  
Disclaimer: They ain't mine.  
  
Rating: Tragically clean.  
  
Thanks to Kel for her fabulousness. Seriously.  
  
Set after season 2 and before the season that I now longer speak of. It makes me want to smash things.

He found her in the living room, knees tucked up to her chin, a drink clutched in her hands resting against her thighs. She was staring at something that he couldn't see, something past the wall in front of her, maybe a lifetime away. Wearing only the shirt that she had borrowed from him earlier, her hair loose around her shoulders, she looked small and alone and the age that her years in this world accumlated to. It was the most vunerable that he had ever seen her.  
  
He hated her, in that moment, for showing weakness. He was loathed to need her but was desperate for her strength. Her solidity was liquifying before him. He needed her pieces to hold together as his creaked and fell. His jaw tightened as he bit out her name, a demand on its heels "Irina, go to bed."  
  
She closed her eyes, not yet back from wherever she'd gone, "Yes", the word flowed from her mouth, an automatic response to a command she hadn't really heard. She drank from the glass, the liquid burning its way down her throat. Holding the cool glass to her forehead she repeated her response with even less conviction.  
  
He watched the condensation on the glass trickle from her fingertips, travelling to her skin, making tracks on the surface that tears did not. There were limits to the weakness she'd show even him. A door she couldn't open in fear that it'd never shut.  
  
She was weak before him and his hate whispered from the room, replaced by the scream of understanding that she was allowing him to see it. Their daughter was lost to them, their strengths out of reach, each other their only constant.  
  
Jack had little doubt that his life would be easier if didn't need the woman sitting before him and no doubt at all that it'd be easier if he didn't _want_ her. His shoulders dropped in resignation as he accepted, for now, what he could not deny. She was the mother of his child, the woman who had, in another lifetime, been his world and she was aching for the same reason he was. "Irina," his voice softer, "come to bed".  
  
He turned and left the room, heading upstairs.  
  
_"Go to to to bed"_ The words and their change echoed around in her head. Irina opened her eyes slowly, inclining her head in the direction of where Jack had been standing. She discarded the glass and followed after him.  
  
She reached the door of the bedroom that she had not been in in 20 years. Her fingers caressed the wood as she stood frozen momentarily. She inhaled sharply and pushed open the door. The room was dark, details beyond the grasp of tired eyes. She could just make out Jack's shape, already in bed. In the seconds that followed Irina found herself lying on what, for 10 years, had been her side of their bed. A bed that they had laughed in, and loved in, fought and cried, talked until one day's night had melted into another day's morning.  
  
The bed where they had made Sydney.  
  
She groped blindly for his hand, twinning their fingers, squeezing with fierce determination.  
  
"Irina.."  
  
She cut him off "Promise me, _promise me_, that we'll find her. That we'll destroy everyone that's done this."  
  
He did. "For her, I'd promise you anything."


	2. part 2

He tore his eyes from hers, choosing the ceiling as his focal point instead. He would, without compuction, do anything for his daughter, and in her name he had just sworn to do anything for her mother. It was not sitting well with him.

He felt Irina move closer to him, the hand that was not gripping his came to rest on his arm as she curled herself against him. Her voice whispered through the silence of the room "Jack, I..." her forehead found its way to his shoulder "...need to sleep near you, push me to my side now, or don't."

His mind was suddenly inundated with images of countless nights when he and the body of the woman next to him had lain in this bed together. He was raw and hurting and lying with her in the dark was too much like living in the memory of happier times. He didn't deserve happiness now, he'd wronged the only thing in his life that had been so utterly right. Sydney was gone.

"It was never your side." The words flew at her and she released him instantly. He didn't need to be physical to push her away. His intent was clear. The bed had been his and Laura's. His words were knives, cutting into an already bleeding wound.

Irina shifted from him. The spectre of a woman who had never existed lay between them. "I suppose she was never my daughter either." She spat the words at him. "You had 20 years with her that you squandered, you weren't exactly her father." She felt him stiffen. She could cut him too.

Neither moved for some time. In their youths they'd been people of words, if not with others then with each other. Time had silenced them. Both busy guarding wounds that had been so easily reopened. Trust would not come easily.

She felt suffocated and made to flee. He had gripped her wrist before she even noticed the movement of his arm. "I'm sorry. Stay." The irony that this man, this man was apologising to her, was not lost. She couldn't move.

"We're too skilled at hurting each other." Either could have said it. Both knew it was true. One of Irina's legs hung over the side of the bed, her back to him, wrist still encompassed by his fingers. "We have to stop this. She's worth more then whatever cheap satisfaction we get from hurling the past at each other." Her voice was heavy with accent, emotions running high.

He tugged her arm with enough force to pull her back fully into the bed. To his side. He caught her gaze and held it with resolve. "We'll make this work." She took him at his word, settling in against him. Arms wrapped around each other as eyes closed to the beckoning night.

The obstacle of each other set aside, the ghost of Laura vanquished however temporarily.

They had to make this work. 


	3. part 3

Irina crawled back into the bed and repositioned herself into Jack's arms. She had barely closed her eyes when he reached for the bedside lamp, throwing the darkness from the room.

"What were you doing?" His tone was drenched in suspicion.

She deliberated whether to lie and stave off the anger she knew the truth would bring or start as she meant...hoped to go on.

"I hacked into your computer to.." The words were barely borne to sound as he pushed her away and himself from the bed. The rage evident in his face as he stood above her. Irina, for her part, languidly moved into a sitting position, returning his gaze. She continued despite his reaction "to set up internet protocols for contact. Nothing else." His eyes were ablaze as he tried to contain himself.

"Irina." Her name forced its way from his mouth, the words that attempted to follow it were shut off by her.

"Jack. Trust me, or don't." His silence screamed at her. "I have to leave soon, meeting in person, we can't always....we needed an alternative."

"You could have discussed it with me first."

"I'm not going to discuss my every move with you and ask for you permission. Jack this will be easier if you don't get mad everytime you disagree with my methods."

She got out of the bed and went to retrieve her clothes from the guest room, her original nighttime destination. She returned fully dressed, his shirt in her hand.

"Sloane is the obvious starting point, and I have some others in mind. I'll be in contact." She avoided his eyes as she tossed his shirt on the bed. Things were difficult enough. They'd sworn they would make this work, they hadn't gotten through the first night unscathed.

He nodded. And acquiesced to her plans. "Everything is on the computer?"

"Yes."

They faced each other. She had to leave. He had to let her. She had his face in her hands before he realised it, pressing her lips to the corner of his mouth, gripping the back of his head with one hand, his fingers with the other. She stepped away and out of reach before he could respond. "I won't fail her. Again. Or you."

He closed his eyes against her words, too desperate to believe them to face them full on, the taste of her lips still seeping into his mouth. His eyelids lifted to an empty room.

She was gone.

So was his shirt.

88 Their work began. Both followed leads either found separately or passed on from the other, she using her contacts and sources that he had no access to, he using CIA resources and some shadier contacts that he'd acquired over the years. Their communication flowed mainly over electronic circuits, a private chat room, and an ftp site. She'd been right in the practicality of the arrangement.

The second time they met in person, in a hotel room in Berlin, the culmination of a ghost chase. Another dead end. They talked and planned and when sleep became the inevitable destination of the night's journey she headed to the bathroom. She emerged wearing the shirt she had appropriated from him the previous night they had shared together. His eyes narrowed at her but with no malice.

"That's mine."

"Not anymore." She grinned at him and they allowed themselves the moment of relaxed companionship in the midst of the pain they had both been living in.

He took his turn in the bathroom before claiming his spot in the bed. If their last time together had been wrought with the isolation of each other's pain, then this was blanketed in the knowledge that at least now they had each other.

She curled into him without asking and he embraced her without comment. Small steps.

The third time was mere minutes in length. It disappointed them both.

The fourth, months after the first, allowed them to work on new intel. They'd been labouring all day, having left the table laden with paper and photographs for brief respites only. Comfortable silence surrounded them. They were a formidable pairing, one didn't need to lead the other down their path of thought, simply showing them the intended route was enough. They were efficient and diligent.

Irina's mind had been driven all day when something that had been just out of focus, became perfectly formed and vocalised itself before she could stop it

"Are we still married?"

Her eyes remained fixed on the page in front of her, fingers pushing her hair behind her ear. Jack was momentarily blindsided by the nonsequitor of the question. He recovered quickly, though he dared not look at her.

"Yes."

"Oh."

He allowed himself some time before offering a further explanation, though she had asked for none. "An annulment...it would have been the equivalent of erasing the fact that it happened. We both have scars enough to prove otherwise. And Sydney."

She nodded in understanding. He looked at her then, his eyes revealing nothing of his desired response as he spoke

"We could divorce." Irina appeared to ponder the idea, her eyes as veiled as his. When she spoke, her voice was drenched in her accent, it curled around her words as a smile curled around her mouth

"You're only after the half of my criminal empire that you'd receive in the settlement. And I'm rather fond of it. No. We'll stay married."

"We'll stay married." He nodded his assent. They returned to the papers in front of them. Neither upset by the outcome.

That night when she crawled into bed she lay on her back, close to him but not in the position she had taken to claiming as her own. When he reached for her to settle her into him, she hissed as her right side made contact with the mattress beneath. She'd been stiffer in her movements during the evening but he'd let it pass until then.

"What's wrong?" his concern evident in his voice.

She waved it off "Nothing, just a little bump." She attempted to lay on her side to placate him but pain wrenched through her body and found purchase on her face.

"Let me see."

"No. I'm fine." Irina pulled back, turning her face from his. Jack removed the covers from her and reached for the end of his/her shirt.

"Jack..." She tried to ward him off with her tone but was complete in her failure.

"Irina, if you're injured then I need to know about it, now let me see." She spoke no more. He edged the shirt up her body, stopping short of her breasts. The bump manifested itself in the form of ugly bruising around her ribcage, trailing down her side. "A bump? What the hell happened?"

"I had a disagreement with a contact."

"Does he still possess all of his limbs?"

"Yes. Though not all are currently working." He ran his fingertips over the offending marks that insulted her skin, convincing himself that he was checking for further injury. His mouth on the angriest mark belied the sincerity of the belief, longer then a kiss, shorter then a caress. She hissed for a different reason.

He tugged the shirt back down and curled her onto her left side, fitting his body in behind hers. "Sleep. And in the morning we'll have a discussion on the differences between little bumps and violent injuries."

She turned her head enough that their noses rubbed, her eyes finding his. "Dangerous times." He draped his arm around her, mindful of her wounds, their mouths a whisper apart.

"Dangerous times." He echoed her. She bumped their noses again before turning back.

Sleep claimed them both.

The fifth time they met, they almost killed each other. Opposite sides of some nameless hotel room in Taipei, they'd drawn lines in the sand and were throwing insults at each other from across them. Months of frustration and fruitless investigation were grating on both of them. They were lashing out and feeding off each other's fury. An argument spawned from nothing had grown monstrous.

He hurled the fact that the NSC was becoming suspicious of him at her, accused her of recklessness, of endangering them both. She charged him with blaming her for everything that went wrong, of being too quick to suspect her of trespass. They were shouting and vicious without conscience. She swore at him in Russian, he back in English.

They sliced from each other to fill in missing parts of themselves. The end result solved nothing. They were just mangled pieces of each other. Desperation to land the ending blow consumed him. He reached into his arsenal and dragged out the one weapon he knew he could wound her with. With all of his might he heaved Laura at her and with all of hers she slapped his face. The absolute stillness that followed the sound that resulted from her hand and his cheek forced them both to step back. She held herself against the shake that tried to seize her body. He walked out.

Left alone she crumpled to the bed and tried to regain control of herself. She was spent of everything she had and was loathed to change into her usual shirt. She screamed in her mind that she didn't need anything from him. She succumbed to sleep.

He returned later. Shattered from both of their actions. He took in the image before him. She was fully dressed and sleeping uneasily on the covers. He was hit with the memory of finding her on the couch the first night she came to him after Sydney's death, of the vulnerability that had been seeping from her that night and found that it was nothing compared to how lost she looked in her sleep at that moment. And he had caused it. Jack pulled a chair up to the side of the bed, the movement was enough to wake her, though she didn't open her eyes. "We can't keep doing this. We won't survive each other."

"What do we do?"

"There were times that I hated her. Laura. She was all you saw when you looked at me. You'd make love to my body and promise her the world. You didn't even know my name. I wanted you to." She sat up and forced herself to look at him. Her eyes cold, she'd revealed too much and couldn't reclaim it, she dared him to use it against her.

"I know it now." He declined her challenge. "You're right. We can't keep doing this." He leaned forward and pressed his mouth to hers.

He handed her back the pieces that he had ripped from her earlier. She ran her fingers over his mouth, returning what she had taken from him.

"We move forward now or we'll die in our past."

"Forward. Irina."

Jack swore for the forth time in under a minute. The codes he was trying were failing at every pass to get through the computer system. Irina, seated on the floor sifting through pages of intel and photographs, couldn't help the smile that tugged at her mouth in response to his language. He very rarely swore and it had always amused her when he did so, no matter the circumstance.

"Jack, your swearing is offending my delicate sensibilities." His fingers paused over the keys as he appraised her "And your sociopathic criminal tendencies offend mine." She bit down hard on her lip to stifle the laugh that was pounding against her teeth for freedom.

"Liar."

"The codes aren't working. I can't get past the firewall."

"Let me see." She pulled herself up from the floor, moving to him, batting his hands from the laptop. He made no move to give up his seat so she deposited herself in his lap, paying him no more heed then she would have the chair, her focus now on the screen in front of her. His hands found her thighs, keeping her in place. Irina continued typing but shifted enough to let him know that she was aware of him and not asking him to withdraw.

Minutes passed. She turned her face to his, her gaze flicking between his eyes and mouth. "I have it, but it will take some time before access is available." A hand moved to squeeze her inner thigh, her lips placed a tiny kiss on his bottom lip. Eyes open. She was ready. The computer beeped and she turned back. Jack pushed her up gently and slipped out from under her. He wasn't. His head was heavy with exhaustion and though he had started them on a new path he was still cautious of what lay ahead.

"Rest."

"I'm not a child Irina, I don't need to be sent to bed."

"When I have access to the files, I'll get started on what we need. You haven't slept. You're no good to me like this." She fired off a grin that he shot back with a scowl. But he relented all the same. "An hour, nothing more." He deposited himself on the bed.

As much as she knew she should be focused on the work in front of her, that it could lead to the people behind Sydney's death, her eyes kept flicking to the man asleep before her. An hour had passed. It was time to wake him. She stood at the end of the bed regarding him. In sleep he managed to look somewhat at peace. She could tell from his face that sleep was eluding him more often then not and she hated to call him back from it. She also hated being pushed away and decided on some pushing of her own.

Irina kneeled on the bed by his feet, determining her plan of attack. She crawled up his body slowly, arms on either side of his body, her legs tangling with his. As her face moved above his, Jack's eyes flew open, his hands grasping her hips. "Irina, what..."

"Shhhhh." She kissed him softly, never breaking her gaze.

"Irina" his voice was wearier this time and before she could protest he'd moved them into a seating position, her hands gripping his shoulders to keep from falling backwards. She dragged her legs up and around his waist, blocking his escape.

"As much as I was hoping that you'd be using your mouth for other endeavours, talk to me." And suddenly he had nothing to say. What could he say that she didn't already know, that she didn't already mirror? That they needed to find Sydney's murderers? That they had to stay focused? That they shouldn't be sidetracked by whatever was between them? They'd been working tirelessly and without redemption and his wife was currently sitting in his lap with her hair falling around her face....

He closed the distance between them, his mouth slanting over hers, his arms reaching to pull her closer. She responded in kind, surprise at his actions quashed by desire. She sucked his bottom lip into her mouth, showing none of the delicacy that she had earlier as she bit into it. His hands snaked under her shirt, fingers pushing into her skin, gripping her as his mouth opened to hers. Stroke for stroke their tongues matched, her fingers lost in his hair. Both lost of their senses. She pulled back and allowed him to remove her shirt before replacing her previous fierceness with gentle kisses. It was heady and blinding and she pushed hard into his lap. She swallowed the moan that escaped from his mouth.

The computer beeped. Their join at the mouths was replaced with one of the foreheads as they rested against each other, regaining their balance. "We've been waiting for that." Computer or kiss, she couldn't tell but she nodded and moved off to the side so that he could stand, he squeezed her hand, signalling his lack of regret.

But it was time to work again. 


	4. part 4

Their leads were running out. The time between new information stretching a little more each time. They hadn't been in the same country let alone the same room together for longer then either cared to dwell upon. The strain of continuously running into dead ends was being to take its toll. He knew he was under investigation, he had heard it through back channels. The situation was becoming bleak and they both knew it.

Fear for his freedom had kept her away despite his assurances that he could secure a meet. There was a perturbance that translated across the austere of black on white that flashed across her computer screen. His words betrayed nothing of his thoughts but... there was something, she could feel it. Something that he was not articulating to her.

It was too dangerous to meet, she had to keep reminding herself. She had to force herself to obey for weeks. The risk was too great. But the words refused to dissolve into her blood, it was too concentrated with the absoluteness that there was something wrong. Instinct took hold and mobilized her. She was in his home before she fully realized that she'd even left her makeshift base.

He arrived home earlier then she had ever known him too, a testament to the escalation of his dissatisfaction with the CIA. She remained in the shadows, allowing her to observe him without restraint. She knew immediately that she had been right in coming, the air around him was different. He was different. Cold unease settled in her heart and was pumped through her body in a single beat.

He headed to the kitchen and she listened to the sounds of his movements for a few minutes, taking the time to compose herself before following. The sight that met her vanquished the unease and transfused her with an anger rooted in pure panic. Jack sat at the kitchen table, a tumbler accommpanied by an open bottle before him. She watched as he drank the contents of the glass and reached to refill it, his eyes unfocused as he set the bottle down heavily. She was as sure of the fact that this was a nightly occurrence for him as she was of her own name.

"Don't come to bed drunk." Her voice was harsh as she announced her presence.

The shock of seeing Irina standing in the doorway was numbed by the effects of the alcohol. He made no move.

"It's my bed."

"And you won't be welcome in it if you're drunk."

His unresponsive attitude persisted. His silence swirled around her as a dull static filled her ears. She started towards him, gauging his reaction after each step. It remained nonexistent. His gaze was determinedly focused on the glass in front of him. Irina pushed it from his line of site and positioned herself in its place on the table. Only then did he seem to comprehend that she was there.

"Irina...." Her name a plea from his mouth to her ears. She reached for his hands and almost cried out as he crushed her fingers between his in desperation.

"Tell me. Please." She whispered the words and waited.

Irina watched as he attempted to gather himself and squeezed his hands in support. His eyes found hers and his intensity pinned her, she could not have moved if she tried. His voice was quiet when eventually he spoke.

"What if we should just be mourning her?" He offered no more.

"Jack, I, I don't understand."

"All of our energy has gone into finding her killers, but it's been months and we are no closer to that goal then we were when we started. It's starting to feel like..." He trailed off, reluctant to vocalize the thought.

"Like what?"

He inhaled deeply and ushered the words out with the exhale. "Like we're, I'm, so driven to find them so that I won't have to deal with the fact that she's really gone."

Irina pried one of her hands from his grip and took the discarded glass in it. "This isn't dealing." There was no harshness in her tone, just ache as she realized what she'd been feeling during their online conversations, that he was slipping away, that she was loosing him to a darker place.

"No. It's not. But it's all I had. Sydney's dead." The word splintered him and she grasped with everything she had to drag him back together. Irina hauled him from the chair and wrapped her arms around him. His breathing was ragged. She kissed the line of his jaw, searching out his mouth. Her kiss was soft but insistent. Her tongue licked the line of his lips as she sought entrance. Irina lifted her right leg to wrap around him, pushing the heel of her foot into the small of his back, forcing him closer to her. Jack came willing but within seconds had pulled back and put a physical step between them.

"I won't let you be my whore."

It should have sliced her. But what he was trying to say was more important then the words he chose to say it.

"Then let me be your wife."

She slid off the table and offered him her hand.

He took it and let her lead him upstairs. 


	5. part 5

She bit hard into his shoulder.

"You'll leave a mark."

"Who are you worried will see?" Her forehead was resting on the indents that she had just imposed, her question resonating through his skin. The single drop of doubt in her voice washed across him causing genuine surprise.

"No one. There's no one else Irina." He felt her smile and moved closer. Their legs already entwined. Her arm reaching across his waist. Skin pressed to skin. She moved further up his body settling in at his neck. His fingertips traced her spine.

"I walked into a chair."

"What?"

"The bruise. On my thigh. I walked into a chair. It wasn't from..."

"I didn't ask."

"No. You didn't." The drop of doubt drowned by something kin to hurt. He paused.

"A chair?"

"Yes."

"How is it the CIA hasn't caught you?"

Laughter flooded the room. "Shut up."

He lay his fingers against her ribs and held her tighter. "I should have asked." He kissed his apology into her hair.

She pressed an open mouth kiss against his throat as her acceptance. "How do you feel?"

"Better. Now. For now." She moved on to her back pulling him with her, his body covering hers.

"Why didn't you tell me?" She whispered the words against his mouth, each one a feathered kiss. Her legs cradled him, holding him in place as she awaited his answer. Silence permeated the room. His eyes swirled with pain and she knew the words would not be forthcoming. She reached up and traced underneath his eyes with the pads of her thumbs. "Its alright." It wasn't. But she wouldn't push him now. A thumb trailed down his nose and to his mouth. His gaze held hers as his tongue wet its tip before his teeth clamped down. She inhaled sharply. Pleasure and pain mingled and meshed.

"I know that..." she stopped to think, to choose words that would inform but not seek to excuse. "I can't ask you to believe that I didn't want to leave you and Sydney. I know that. But I need you to believe that I don't want to leave you now. I swear it." She closed her eyes in protection against his response. Silent prayers to whoever would hear her roared from her mind.

"I believe you." She kept her eyes closed as moisture seeped from under her lids. Her hand raised to cover them. She had never cried before him without the mask of Laura. Unaccustomed and uncomfortable she shielded herself, terrified that she would completely liquefy beneath him. Jack pried her hand gently from her face. "This isn't weakness." He kissed her mouth and whispered his belief again. Her eyes flew open as she surged against him. Her mouth found his as legs that had previously held him still stroked to encourage movement. Trust proving a heady stimulant.

When coherencey returned to them it was accompanied with the creeping light of early morning.

"When will I see you again?"

"Its too dangerous Jack." She beat across his attempt at protest. "And don't tell me otherwise. The last thing we need is for me to have to break you out of prison because the NSC suspects that you're working with your..." she trailed off.

"My wife." He finished for her. "And you can't. If anything happens, if they arrest me you are not to come after me." The severity of his tone thrust her into a sitting position.

"Don't be ridiculous." The little peace they had found began to dissipate.

"I'm serious Irina. You escaped CIA custody. You're number 6 on their most wanted list. If they caught you you'd undoubtebly be executed. If they caught both of us then who would find Sydney's killers? Goddamn it Irina."

"Goddamn you Jack! Do you think I could leave you to rot? You're not the only one that lost her. I've lost my daughter too. I won't loose you." Anger propelled her from the bed. She couldn't be next to him. A thought that did not translate as he stood to grasp her shoulders.

"Irina. Promise me. For her."

She shoved him with enough force that he landed back on the bed.

"Bastard." Her hands started to shake but the anger was gone. He was right. She knew it. She'd do as he asked and if it came to pass it would crush what was left of her. She grabbed for the top that she had been wearing earlier and put it on before reaching for her underwear.

"What are you doing?"

"Putting clothes on. I'm cold and tired. I left in a hurry and didn't pack anything."

"Take another shirt."

She stopped completely and stared at him. Stood above him in a state of half undress as the anger flowed back into her veins. "I. Don't. Want. Another. Shirt." She bit the words out. "I want my shirt. I want my daughter to be alive. I want my husband to not be falling apart and asking me to leave him in a prison cell." The shake started to spread from her hands, rocking the rest of her. He stood and took her in his arms, holding her against the shake, absorbing it into his bones.

"One year Jack. That's all you're getting. One year from today, I don't care where you are I am coming for you and all this stops. We'll lay our daughter to rest and we'll disappear."

"Irina..." If he had plans to the contrary she wouldn't allow them. She wanted his agreement now.

"Agree and I will come see you again in a week."

"Will you cook?"

She sagged against him and grinned.

There was no point worrying over things that hadn't happened.

One year. They'd be more careful.

They'd be fine. 


	6. part 6

  
Sydney.

Alive.

He stared transfixed at the images before him. His hand raised of its own volition to touch the screen, delicate tracing, afraid somehow that he would erase it and she would be gone. He would have clawed his way into the screen if he could, so desperate to seize her and hold her and keep her real. She was alive. He didn't understand how. He didn't care.

Sydney.

Alive.

He rewatched the video clip. Brushing aside the sight of his child slitting a man's throat. Focusing only on her existence. She was there. It was her. The details didn't matter.

Irina. He needed to tell Irina. She'd be with him again in a matter of days. Too long to wait. He began to bury the information within his computer.

Keep it safe. Keep her safe. Tell Irina. Find Sydney.

He didn't even hear the door being broken down as the NSC burst into his home.

A small bag was open on her bed. She was packing. Her travel arrangements were set. She still hadn't decided what she was going to cook him for dinner. She grinned at the thought. It was so domestic. It warmed her.

She'd answered the phone with no expectation and listened quietly as the caller spoke.

She replaced the receiver. Dazed.

He'd been taken into custody.

"Oh." It fell from her lips and crashed on the floor. She stared as it shattered, as she felt herself break.

She clamped a hand to her mouth as bile rose in her throat. She forced it down. Forced herself to breath. Forced the cracks to seal.

Forced her feat not to run to him.

She'd promised.

It would break her heart. She wouldn't break her word.

They had proof that he'd been working with Irina.

Solitary. Indefinite.

Sydney. Alive.

Irina didn't know. He'd made her promise not to come for him. She wouldn't come. She'd be looking of Sydney's killers, not for Sydney. She wouldn't come.

Time ticked in his head. A countdown until she would come for him. Until they could go to her.

Sydney's death had killed her. Jack's incarceration had buried her. Each day another shovel of dirt thrown upon her grave.

She still had nothing. No fresh leads. No child. No husband. No feeling.

Nothing except time pulsing by until she could go to him. Until they could disappear.

Sydney before him. Flesh and blood. Real. Glass separating them. The despair radiating from her and piercing him, unequal to the elation that thrummed through his veins at her presence. Perhaps selfish in entirety, all else dimmed in comparison.

Sydney.

Alive.

Jack.

Free.

She clawed herself from her grave. 

His steps were heavy as they connected with each stair. He wanted to sleep, to escape the noise. It had only been two days. The irony of so much time in solitary causing him to need time from people. Even Sydney. A year thinking she was dead. Nearly a year knowing she was alive and out there somewhere. He had to keep himself in check around her for fear that he would bundle her up and take her from the world to keep her safe from everything that was hurting her now.

Jack shrugged off his suit jacket and reached to hang it up. Placing it next to a line of others he noticed something out of place. It took him a second to realise that there was a shirt hanging in his closet that had not been there that morning. A white shirt, wrinkled with wear. He reached out to trace the line of the sleeve as his heart contracted. He compelled himself to hold still.

"Are you returning this?"

"No."

He turned to face her in the doorway. Her eyes drank in the sight of him.

"You're an hour and 10 months late. Dinner's ruined. You should have called."

"I apologise. It won't happen again."

She almost smiled. She couldn't move.

"Irina."

The word tore from his mouth and wrapped around her, reeling her to him. Arms encompassed his shoulders as she pulled him to her with ferocity. His arms wound around her waist, crushing her. He could feel her trembling and squeezed tighter, frantic to be as close to her as possible. Not a whisper passed from their lips. A sliver of light could not have passed between their bodies. When he tried to pull back Irina dug her fingers into his shoulders.

"Not yet." She burrowed closer. She didn't care if she bruised him. She didn't care if he broke her ribs.

"Miss me?"

The words loosened her grip. She pulled back an inch or two, her hands finding purchase on his face. Her mouth pressed to his as she separated his lips with hers.

"Yes." The word rolled from her tongue straight onto his.

"I missed you, too."

She smiled into his mouth.

"Sydney. How is she?"

"Alive. Healing. She doesn't remember anything from the past 2 years."

There was no word for what she was feeling at that moment. There was no way to articulate the cacophony of emotion that was thriving inside of her. Her daughter alive. Her husband in her arms.

"We'll find out what happened. We'll do whatever it takes." She pushed into him, nuzzling her forehead into the crook of his neck. He lowered his head to her shoulder and kissed it.

"Irina, take off your clothes." It wasn't a request. It wasn't an enticement. It was a plea. He needed to see her, all of her, every inch of skin, he needed to see that she was alright and that she was real. She took a step back from him. Their gazes fused. Shirt, shoes, socks, pants, underwear. She stood before him naked and unashamed. His eyes raking over her as he took in the sight of her. She was thinner then last time he'd seen her. A scar he didn't recognise marred her left arm. He gave a tiny nod assured that she was ok.

"We should get to work." Confusion flitted across her face as a grin broke out on his. "You owe me 10 months worth of conjugal visits."

She smiled and laughed and reached for him. "I like to settle me debts."


	7. part 7

  
She rained tiny kisses over his face. He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, repeating the path of his fingers, tickling her skin. She stroked her nose against his. He kissed its tip and lowered her onto her back. His hand rested on her abdomen, the first home of their daughter. A mirthless smile graced his lips as his eyes grew heavy with memory. He opened his mouth and spilled words onto her skin.

"I knew Sydney was alive before they arrested me." She stiffened beneath him before he had finished. "Minutes before." He paused as she relaxed. "Everyday I sat in that cell knowing that she was alive but that I couldn't go to her. But the knowledge that she wasn't dead sustained me. You didn't have that. If our roles had been reversed I don't know if I would have..." His voice trailed off. He moved his hand from her stomach and replaced it with his lips. She ran her fingers through his hair, fingernails lightly scraping his scalp, remembering how lost he had been the last time they had been together. Terrified to think of what could have been.

"You made me promise to stay away." There was no accusation in her voice, just sadness.

"I know. I shouldn't have."

She laughed lightly. "Jack Bristow admitting that he was wrong about something." He bit gently at her skin.

"I missed you."

"You said. And proved."

He kissed a trail up her torso to find her mouth. He balanced above her eager to prove to her again when the expression on her face changed. She became quiet and still. He moved to her side sensing that she needed to speak, that there were words churning inside of her that she needed to release.

"I had it all planned." She whispered. Her eyes fixed on the ceiling.

"What?"

"Where we would go. After. I had your extraction details prepared by the second. It was flawless." She reached for his hand and clutched it tightly.

"I was never happier then when I learned that Sydney was I alive. Never." She bit hard on her lip. Her face contorting with anxiety.

"What is it that you're not saying?"

She took a shuddering breath, willing the strength to continue. Words that had been festering in her, gnawing her insides. "There is a single cell in my body. One single cell....you won't, you can't come with me now."

"No. I can't."

"She needs you. I want you to be here taking care of our daughter. But I want you too. I hate myself for thinking it." She turned her face away from him, unable to bring herself to look him in the eyes, afraid that he would loathe her selfish words.

Jack raised their hands to his mouth and kissed her knuckles before wrapping his arms around her, nuzzling into her hair, his energy draining from his body.

"It's not an exchange. I won't loose either of you. I won't." She turned to him, saw him fighting to stay awake. She kissed his eyelids. "Go to sleep Jack, I'll still be here in the morning. We'll talk then."

"Dad, I brought those files you..." the end of Sydney's sentence trailed off as she stepped through the kitchen door and took in the scene before her.

"Mom?"

The cup of coffee that was half way to Irina's mouth stopped as she froze in surprise. Irina was seated at the small table, knee of a bare leg under her chin, clothed only in her customary shirt. The daughter that she had not seen for nearly three years stood before her, the twenty that had preceded it seemed nothing in comparison.

Sydney's face was lost between shock and joy and horror as they all fought for dominance. Irina was out of her chair and hugging her child to her before the battle was one.

"My baby."

The words flowed on a breath and washed over them both breaking through a dam in the younger woman.

"Mom." The word crashed out of her with a sob that tore from her insides as she returned her mothers embrace. The cry called to its equal within Irina and it was drawn out to meet it. Both women clung to each other in a desperate bid to achieve the impossible and once again become one.

This was how Jack found when he descended the stairs a number of minutes later. He had awoken to an empty bed but the sight of Irina's clothes still scattered on the floor where she had abandoned them. Having missed Sydney's entrance he expected only to find Irina and halted at the image of his wife and child fused together. Irina saw him through the lense of her tears and pulled back enough to signal his presence to Sydney.

Both straightened and whipped at their faces, Irina for her part turned away, still not used to having an audience for what she considered a private act.

"Dad, Mom's here."

Jack moved into the room and kissed his daughter's cheek, mirroring the act on her mother.

"Yes Sydney."

"I don't understand."

Irina lowered herself back into her chair and nodded slightly. The words flowed. He explained in depth what he had previously done in brief of how he and Irina had worked together to find her killers, how Irina had carried on after his incarceration without knowing that Sydney was alive.

Sydney shook her head as she tried to take in all the information. Her world had been completely fragmented over the past few days making it difficult to latch onto specific pieces. Trying to reconcile the image of her mother that her father presented to her with the last one that she had of the woman that had betrayed her was more complex the she could have imagined.

She couldn't keep the accusatory tone from her voice when she spoke. "You could have extracted him from solitary at any time. You have more then enough resources to have succeeded."

"Sydney." Jack's response vaulted in front of Irina's, his voice heavy with warning at the tone that Sydney was taking. "I made her promise not to come for me. It would have been too dangerous."

"And you just agreed?" Sydney's voice lost none of its edge, her eyes still plowing into Irina.

"Your father threatened me." Her eyes flicked with memory as she thought back to that night, to the extreme measures he had been forced to take to ensure her agreement.

Sydney's face contorted with confusion as she tried to fathom what her father could possibly threatened Irina Derevko with.

"With what?"

"Divorce." Irina's face darkened at the word before a sly smile stole its way onto her mouth leaving Sydney dumbfounded.

She took slow steps towards her child and pulled her too her again. "Ask all the questions you want, feel you need to feel, but do it later."

Sydney started to relax into her mother's arms when her cell rang. She stepped back to answer it before excusing herself to go outside to talk.

Irina turned to face Jack, her eyes bright with tears that she ached to shed. "She's alive." She kissed him fiercely, her tongue pushing with force into her mouth, her hands dragging him to her. Mindless of anything but her he lifted her from the floor and seated her on the table.

She ran her hands down his arms and grasped his wrists. Her voice determined, resolute. "I love you." She dug her nails into his skin to stall his response. "Don't say anything. I don't want you to. Not now." She kissed his throat. "If you don't love me, it would hurt too much. I probably don't deserve to ask you not to hurt me. But I am. And if you do love me..." She looked down at the floor a smile tugging at her lips as she spoke. "I'd only knock you and Sydney unconscious and kidnap you both. So don't say anything."

"When we find out what happened to Sydney. When we know, I'll go with you. Whatever plans you made consider them suspended, not cancelled." He pressed his mouth to her forehead. "You won't be here when I come home."

"No."

"So this is how it ends."

"This is how it ends today. There'll be others." 


End file.
